


Once Upon A Time

by bookwormfaith



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 22:04:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1833856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwormfaith/pseuds/bookwormfaith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time was a story, was a writer, was a prince, was a girl, was a knight... Once upon a time, there was a duck</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon A Time

**Title: Once Upon A Time  
** **Author:** bookworm  
 **Rating & Warnings:** G  
 **Summary:** Once upon a time was a story, was a writer, was a prince, was a girl, was a knight... Once upon a time was a duck.

**Disclaimer: _All characters borrowed without permission and returned unharmed_**

 

 

The young mother tipped her head thoughtfully. “Would you like to hear a story? It might make it easier to sleep.” The children blinked back at her for a second, then nodded enthusiastically. She laughed softly & patted the bed beside her invitingly. “Come here then, and listen.”

She waited until they were all settled comfortably before beginning. “So, where shall we begin? Perhaps …”

 

 _“Once upon a time, there was a man who wrote stories. He was, in fact, such a good writer, that it was said that his stories came alive…_ ”

 

Or perhaps, “ _once upon a time, there was a prince who loved everyone, who broke his heart to defeat the Monster Raven…_ ”

 

Or maybe we should try – “ _once upon a time, there was a knight, who failed to protect his prince…_ ”

 

Or even, “ _once upon a time, there was a girl who was raised by ravens, whose greatest sorrow was that she was unlovable…_ ”

 

Ah, no, I know, the best place to begin – in the place where all of these stories meet…

 

 _Once upon a time, there was a girl named Duck, who loved to dance_. But Duck, or as we shall call her, “Ahiru”, which means the same thing but sounds much prettier, had a secret that she could never tell. You see, the girl named Duck, was, in reality, a duck who became a girl…

 

Ahiru was a student at the local dance academy. The Girl raised by Ravens, who we shall call Rue, the Prince with a Broken Heart, who we shall call Mytho, and the Failed Knight, whose name was Fakir, also attended. Although not the best dancer, little Ahiru tried the hardest, and smiled the brightest, because her greatest dream was to become a prima ballerina. Or at least, that’s what she told everyone else.

 

You see, although it was true that Ahiru loved to dance, her true dream was something else entirely. When she had still been just a duck, she had seen Mytho dancing by the lake in which she lived, and her gentle heart had broken for the emptiness in his eyes. So when a mysterious old man had offered her the chance to help the Prince, it hadn’t taken her long to agree. And so a little duck became a girl with a secret, and the secret was this - the girl named Ahiru could become the prima ballerina _Princess Tutu_ , who had the power to save the Prince. And so Ahiru, as Tutu, began to collect the scattered pieces of Mytho’s broken heart.

 

If that was all the story, it would be a very short one, and perhaps not one worth telling, but of course, there is always more to it than that. For besides Ahiru, Rue and Fakir also had a part to play. Fakir, you see, had failed the Prince once before, and now had sworn to protect him from anything that would hurt him again. And Rue, because she thought she was unlovable, thought to love the broken Prince, because something that is broken cannot love, and thus he would never betray her. And neither of them were happy when Tutu interfered.

 

Fakir fought her first, because a broken heart cannot feel, and from feelings come unhappiness, and the Failed Knight would have protected his Prince from even that. So when Tutu offered smiles and laughter, he countered with anger and harsh words. But although Ahiru responded first bewildered frustration, eventually Tutu answered him with understanding, and he found that in pushing her away he drew her closer to himself instead. So when Mytho gained enough of his heart to make his own decisions, Fakir allowed him to choose his own path. And when Mytho chose to experience both the joys and the sorrows of life, the Knight quietly supported him, for he had learnt that you cannot protect the ones you love from everything. And now Fakir had two to protect, both his still-broken Prince, and the beautiful Princess who could put him back together again.

 

Rue fought her second, because as Mytho gained his heart, she feared that he would learn to love, and turn away from her. And this is the strange thing, for Rue believed that she was so unlovable that only a broken thing would stay with her. And yet, dark haired Rue, elegant, coldly graceful, and intelligent, was the best dancer in the Academy. Any boy would gladly have been the one to partner her. So why then, may we ask, does Rue believe that she is not lovable? Ah, but have you forgotten? Rue is the Girl who was raised by Ravens. Rue is a special child indeed, for she is the human daughter of the Monster Raven, who although defeated by the Prince, was not destroyed. And dark Rue, so different from the bright Tutu, had known all her life that a monster is not lovable, and Rue is, after all, a monster’s daughter.

 

And this is where the story dips into the deep waters of sorrow, for Rue, despairing, walked knowingly into the darkness, and became the Princess of Ravens; Princess Kraehe, a darkly beautiful shadow to smother Tutu’s bright dance. So now the Failed Knight must fight the dark princess to save the light, or risk his Prince fall into shadow. But Fakir is only human, and trusting in his strength alone, unable to protect either his bright Princess or his broken Prince. And Tutu, gentle Tutu, wept to see Rue’s despair and Fakir’s helplessness, and only the growing light in Mytho’s eyes kept her on the path she had chosen. But Rue loved Mytho, the only thing in the world she had outside of her father, and despair made Kraehe strong; stronger, maybe, than Tutu’s gentle concern. And Tutu weakened, for Ahiru could not bring herself to hurt Kraehe - for she knew that Kraehe was but a mask for Rue, and Ahiru called her friend.

 

Divided between her loyalties, Tutu faltered, and Kraehe laughed, and issued her final challenge. “Prove to me your love for the Prince!” She mocked. “Tell him how much you love him, and show me that he will choose you instead of me!” And Fakir’s heart despaired, for he knew Tutu’s other secret, the one she held most dear. Power you see, always comes at a price. Kraehe’s price was her despair, for despair fed the Monster Raven, and although Rue would choose this road to keep her Prince, she knew that he could never love a monster, unless she break his heart again and make him a soulless thing. And Tutu’s? Tutu’s price was simple. If she spoke of her love aloud, the spell that granted her power would fade, and Tutu would vanish in a flash of light, and Ahiru become a duck again in truth. Of what use, both Knight and Princess thought, is speaking of love, if to do so will remove Tutu, and leave Kraehe victor?

 

And watching the tale unfold before him, the old man laughs, for this story amuses him, with its sorrow and despair. And if the characters move towards a tragic ending, why should a storyteller stop them, if the story is still entertaining?

 

And Fakir, failed knight, grit his teeth and made a decision. He could not protect the Prince from Kraehe, and he was no longer certain he needed to protect Mytho from Rue. But Tutu faltered, weak and uncertain, and _her_ , he could aid. Her, he realised, as he forced himself to stand, her he _wanted_ to protect, wanted it with a surety he had never known before. So Fakir stood, and Fakir fought, and Fakir fell, as he knew that he would, when a mere human fights a monster. But Ahiru saw his conviction, and the direction of her heart was set. Now Tutu could dance, free of indecision, for Fakir’s courage had taught her hope. And it is Kraehe whose turn it is to falter, for Mytho saw Ahiru’s hope and responded, and it broke Rue’s despairing heart.

 

And if the old writer’s puppet cuts her strings in response to Tutu’s hope, and goes against the story to save the boy who would be a knight, well, what of it? For Fakir has already proven he cannot protect his dear ones with a sword.

 

Now Kraehe grows desperate, for she fears Mytho is lost to her, and her father begins to gain in strength as the pieces of heart that bound him are returned to their rightful owner. Soon, now, he will break his seal, and if Mytho does not choose her, Rue knows her father will eat the Prince’s heart. But Tutu has found new strength to oppose her, and Kraehe fails at every turn, her despair only growing. In desperation she soaks a piece of heart in her father’s hate, and forces a raven-spell on the Prince. Now cloaked in Raven Shadows, the Prince turns on both his failed Knight and his bright Princess, but to Rue’s sorrow he turns away from Kraehe as well. For a time Rue can hold back the darkness that she herself afflicted, but only for a time, and with her father gaining strength, so too does the shadow-spell strengthen. And the brief flickers of light in the darkness serve to only feed Rue’s despair, for Mytho responds briefly to her, as if to one beloved, but surely it is only the influence of the raven on his heart. After all, she remains, even now, a monster’s daughter.

 

And the old writer laughs as he watches, for despair is his elixir, and tragedy is his joy. But what of Fakir? Fakir knows, now, he cannot protect his Princess, nor his Prince, and the storyteller mocks him for his weakness. And Fakir, in grim determination, seeks for strength to protect, only to find it in unlikely places. A cousin, he has, attending the same academy. A cousin named Autor who studies the art of stories and verse. And Autor tells Fakir a story that the once-knight can scarcely believe.

 

 _Once upon a time, there was a writer who was so talented his stories came to life_ (and doesn’t this sound familiar?). Made bitter by those who feared him, the storyteller became twisted; finding joy in the suffering of others, and writing all tales to sad ends. And fearing him, those around him killed him, trying to put a stop to his stories, and before they buried him, they cut off his hands. But the old writer laughed, because he had seen them coming, and written himself immortality. And with his death, the spell he had spun with his words came to life - sealing the town away  & creating a story without end, rich in the tragedy that the storyteller loved. So now the storyteller is himself a story, one without an ending; one that writes itself to create unending tragedies. And the name of the story is " _The Prince and the Raven_ ".

 

“You are his direct descendent” Autor tells Fakir. “You have his power.” His cousin’s story shakes Fakir more than he would like. Unbidden, he recalls his childhood, when a careless child had written of ravens, and ravens had come to kill his parents. But Tutu needs his help now, as with both the Prince and Kraehe fighting her every step of the way, Ahiru looks to him for strength. Hesitant at first, Fakir looks to Ahiru, and seeing her trust, he decides for himself as well. To protect her, to save Mytho, he will lay aside his useless sword, and pick up a pen instead.

 

But the old writer mocks him, what can one boy do after all, who cannot even admit his heart?

 

And Fakir falters, hesitating, uncertain of his power, unable to change the flow of a story written by one his senior in both years and experience. And while he stumbles, Tutu finds the last pieces of Mytho’s heart, and the Monster Raven is unsealed. But the last piece is the magic that creates Tutu, and so Tutu becomes Ahiru, neither beautiful nor powerful, but only just a duck. Rue, seeing that the Raven-spell is broken with the completion of her Prince’s heart, succumbs to despair, and allows her father to swallow her, to try and win Mytho’s freedom. But the Monster Raven laughs, for if he cannot have Mytho as a slave, then he will eat his pure heart. And Mytho, understanding now that it is Rue that he loves most, Rue who stood by him in his darkness, hesitates to fight, when a careless blow might hurt her, and Ahiru cries for them both. And Fakir, Fakir hears her, and his own courage is rekindled, and he writes the story of a tiny, brave duck, with a heart big enough to love them all. Hearing his voice, Ahiru dances to remind them all of hope, without the words to tell them, and Mytho sees her dance and understands.

 

And the storyteller hesitates, for his characters are fighting the path that he would direct, and he had not thought that a _duck_ would be his undoing.

 

Seizing his chance Fakir writes of hope, of love, of courage, and his tears stain the paper. And Ahiru dances, despite her wounds, despite the storm of hate that rages against her. And Mytho reaches for his Princess, and in her darkness, Rue sees at last the faintest gleam of light and finds the hope to reach back…

 

And the old writer falls over in surprise, for the ending is re-written, and the Prince has his Princess, and the Monster Raven is defeated, and all his hard work unravels before his eyes.

 

And this is where we end, with a _Happily Ever After_ of sorts. The curse on the town is broken, and it is sealed away no more, no longer subject to the mad whims of a bitter old man. Mytho has Rue now, and they are happy. The Monster Raven is destroyed and the Storyteller must find another tale to haunt. And what of Fakir and Ahiru?

 

Down by the lake at the edge of the town, if you go there when the sun is high and the skies are clear, you might find a young man, writing. And in the water, safe beneath his shadow, you might see a little yellow duck swimming peacefully in the summer heat. It is not perfect, but for these two, freshly scarred from battle, it is, for the moment, enough.”

 

“Are they asleep?”

 

The red-haired mother smiled lovingly at her husband as gentle hands stroked hair as fine as duck’s feathers and ghosted across sleeping faces. “They are. Were you worried?”

 

“Their crying woke me up.” Is the almost cold response, but the love in green eyes as the father looks at his wife & their two young children is telling. “You told it well, but you forgot the most important part.”

 

“Oh?”

 

And Fakir smiles at his wife as they tuck their children back into bed. “My happy ending with you.”

 

_The End_


End file.
